


Bloody & Beautiful & Bruised

by Parrannnah



Series: Kat Does Kink Bingo [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Blood, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bruises, But Steve really loves to get beat up, Established Relationship, I TOLD YOU IT'S A LOT, I have no idea where it came from, It's their Kink, M/M, NOT abuse, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, They're Really in Love, Top Bucky Barnes, Violence, bruise kink, physical violence, seriously, this is a lot, violence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 04:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17676470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrannnah/pseuds/Parrannnah
Summary: Fuck, but Bucky loved the look in Steve’s eyes as the pain lit him up, white-hot from the inside out. Steve’d told him once that the pain sharpened and softened everything all at once, as impossible as that sounded, but Bucky got it, hegot it. Because seeing the outline of his palm on Steve’s face, seeing the redness spread over that pristine skin, knowing that he had put that mark there, he’d been the one to muss up the perfect man before him? It did the same thing.





	Bloody & Beautiful & Bruised

**Author's Note:**

> Y'ALL THIS IS VIOLENT. Steve and Bucky have an established relationship in which Bucky beats up Steve, to the point of bleeding, on the regular and they both enjoy it. Steve asks for it repeatedly, consents multiple times throughout. This definitely falls under RACK more than SSC. PLEASE HEED THE TAGS.
> 
> This fills my kink bingo Square O1: Steve/Bucky

“C'mon, Buck, hit me,” Steve says, on his knees in front of Bucky where he's sitting on the couch. “C'mon, baby, please, c'mon, bruise me up, make it hurt, please, baby, please…”

Who is Bucky to deny him? How can he say no when his babydoll wants it so badly; when _he_ wants it so badly? God, the fire in Steve, the way his pretty face looks all bloody and bruised! Bucky’d liked it when Steve was two hundred pounds of righteous fury in a five pounds sack, when he really _shouldn't_ have liked him all beat up regardless of who’d done it; when the fights were dangerous and almost killed Steve more than once.

But now that Steve can take it? Now that his face is still pretty, but he has a jaw that can take a hit, has the strength and power to back up his fight? Now there is something even more attractive about that face when it’s tarnished and bruised and a testimony of their violent desire, when it’s purple and blue and black and red with it, something that makes Bucky shake and shiver and get so hard he can't fucking _think._ And Steve wants him to be the one to make it that way? To make it hurt?

God, but of course he will.

“Yeah, alright Stevie, _yeah,_ ” Bucky growls, voice rough with want and need and something he can't identify, something dark and dangerous. Bucky reaches out and threads his fingers through Steve's hair, gripping _hard_ and pulling Steve's head back, stretching the long line of his throat out just enough to make breathing difficult, to put just that little bit of pressure on Steve’s windpipe.

Steve, wonderful, glorious Steve, let's out a little whimper, strained and rough as it fights its way out of his stressed throat. Bucky tips Steve's head back just that little bit farther, just enough so that Steve's breath comes a little harsher, with a little more effort, and while at first Bucky had thought Steve couldn't possibly enjoy this, couldn't want it, the proof of it  had pressed against the wool of his trousers as they stood in their tiny cold water flat, same as it does now where it presses naked against Bucky’s sweatpant covered thigh.

Bucky stands up, bent over just enough that Steve can stay kneeling, and sets his feet wide, using his height and bulk to loom over his lover in the way he knows Steve loves. He lets off just a little where he is still holding Steve's hair, not enough to ease the strain entirely, but enough to give Steve a chance to catch his breath. Not all the way, though, never all the way. No, Steve wants to struggle, to have it hurt, and Bucky, God save him, he wants that, too. So just before Steve manages to get his breath back, get it under control, Bucky pulls Steve’s hair again as rough as he can and slaps him hard across the face.

Fuck, but Bucky loves the look in Steve’s eyes as the pain lights him up white-hot from the inside out. Steve’d told him once that the pain sharpened and softened everything all at once, as impossible as that sounded, but Bucky gets it, he _gets it_. Because seeing the outline of his palm on Steve’s face, seeing the redness spread over that pristine skin, knowing that _he_ had put that mark there? That he’d been the one to mess up the perfect man before him? It does the same thing to him.

“Like that, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, keeping Steve’s head wrenched back. Steve’s eyes are wide still, but not as glazed over as they had been a moment ago, the pain starting to fade. He rolls his eyes downward, fastening them on Bucky, panting and sweating, and fuck if he isn’t the prettiest thing Bucky’s ever seen.

“More,” Steve rasps out, eyes watering now from what must be a stinging scalp. Bucky uses the hand in Steve’s hair to shake him, hard enough that Steve’s whole body jerks and his teeth clack together.

“More what, sweetheart? Huh? You want me to slap you again? Leave my handprints all over your face?” Bucky’s not sure if he’s hoping Steve will say _yes, that, yes please,_ or _more, Bucky, I need it to hurt more_.

He’s not disappointed when its the latter. “Hurt, Bucky, I need it to hurt more. Hit me like you mean it. I need it, please, you hurt me so good baby.” Steve is begging now, his sweet mouth running away from him as he slips further and further into that place he goes when he needs it, needs Bucky to get him out of his head and into his body and everything it can take.

Touch has a memory. Bucky knows this, knows his hands know it, too, because when he runs his fingertips of Steve’s jaw his fingers being to tingle and twitch, nerves lighting up as they remember the feel of this skin hot and bloody and broken, the very essence of Steve coating his hands and chest and mouth. Bucky needs it too, and he lets go of Steve’s hair abruptly, causing Steve to list forward at the sudden loss of support.

“You want more baby? Want my fist?” Were this another day, that sentence would mean something so very different, but in the end, the base intent is the same: Steve needs Bucky’s fists to help him feel good, to fulfill his desires, and Bucky will always, _always_ , give Steve what he needs.

“Yeah, yeah, give it to me.”

Bucky will always give Steve what he needs.

Steve kneels up, hands behind his back because he’s just so _good_ at this game, this yawning chasm of dark desire they both have coming to him with so much less moral turmoil than Bucky’d had. But they’re past it now, and they can enjoy it.

So Bucky is going to enjoy it.

“Don’t move, Stevie,” he growls, planting his feet on the hardwood beneath him. Thank fuck for the spare bedroom, with its wood floor and thick curtains. Bucky locks eyes with Steve once more, and Steve gives an almost imperceptible nod. He’s ready.

Bucky swings.

His right fist connects solidly with Steve’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. Bucky can feel the arousal growing, can feel the throbbing start up between his legs as Steve looks back at him, bruise already forming on his face.

Now that Bucky is enhanced, too, it's so much better than it was during the war when even his best efforts left marks that only lasted seconds. He’s the only one who can hit Steve hard enough to mark him up, and shit, but if that isn’t both of their favorite part. He wears a padded glove on his left hand, now, too, after months of coaxing from Steve, and that’s so much better than leaving his left hand out of the fun. Seeing all of Steve marked up, not just the one side, is intoxicating.

“Again,” Steve begs, ragged, chest heaving and eyes blown wide. He rights himself, standing up now with his back straight, clasping his hands behind him. “ _Again_ , Bucky.”

So Bucky hits him again, and again, and again, and again, hits to the body and the face now, until he feels Steve’s skin split beneath his hands or his skin split on Steve’s bones, or both, and then a few more times for good measure. He knows it as soon as it happens because there’s blood on his knuckles, and he’s not sure whose it is, his or Steve’s, but soon he’s down in front of his lover, hands cradling his face, all bloody and beautiful and bruised. Steve’s lip, cheek, eyebrow and several spots over his torso have split, along with Bucky’s knuckles, and while this would be worrying to most people Steve is grinning, teeth outlined in red and Bucky knows Steve must have cut his cheek on his teeth during one of the hits.

Bucky guides him down so they’re both kneeling, knows Steve will feel be lightheaded and dizzy as the pleasure centers in his brain go haywire from all the pain.

“So good, baby, you’re so good, so goddamn beautiful,” Bucky praises, leaning in to kiss the blood from Steve’s mouth.

“You’re a damn vampire, Barnes,” Steve had told him the first time Bucky got carried away kissing Steve after he’d bloodied his mouth, licking inside and sucking the coppery taste from Steve’s tongue. Bucky had smiled wickedly and leaned down to bite at Steve’s throat, leaving teeth-shaped bruises on his creamy skin, and had never denied it. Something about it, the blood, it gets to him, gets him going even more than the rest of it.

Steve, for all his teasing, feels it too, Bucky knows he does, cause the second he gets Bucky’s shirt off, he takes the blood from where his skin has spit over his ribs and rubs it all over Bucky’s chest, moaning as Bucky presses on the bruises that are sprouting up across the surface of his skin.

“Need you,” Steve whines, pulling at Bucky’s shoulders as he lays back, groaning when the bruises on his shoulders press into the rough boards. “Need you Buck, so bad, gotta have you.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Bucky asks, already pushing his sweats down his thighs. He’s so hard its a wonder _he_ isn’t feeling dizzy since surely all the blood in his body is currently in his dick. “My needy sweetheart, huh? I got you, babydoll, I’ll take care of you.”

They’d prepped Steve before they’d started: Bucky lovingly opening him up, pressing kisses soft and sweet to the inside of Steve’s thighs, his stomach, anywhere he could reach, really, as he coated his fingers in lube, stretching Steve open. He’d spent a long time working his fingers in, always adding more lube that he used to coat the tight walls of Steve’s ass, showering praises and loving words on him. They’d always done it like this, using the time before things got violent and raw to be gentle with one another, to be sweet on one another.

They are always glad for it, when it comes to this point— neither of them could have slowed down if they wanted to, not for anything, and Bucky barely manages to scoop lube out of the tub he’d left on the floor before he’s pressing in against Steve’s tight little hole.

Steve is moaning again, the sound needy and wanton, setting Bucky on fire. Looking at Steve only makes it better. His lip is still split, probably from Bucky’s continuous gnawing, and the bruises, _Jesus_ , the bruises that are blossoming on Steve’s skin are nothing short of breathtaking. Blues and purples in Rorshach splotches all across the spring of Steve’s ribs, the jut of his collarbones. One eye is rapidly swelling and turning black, his nose is puffy, and his right eyebrow and cheek both have cuts in them, the gash over his right cheekbone still letting out a slow trickle of blood.

Bucky sits up on his heels, draping Steve’s thighs over his own as he sets a punishing pace, fucking into the heat of Steve’s body wildly. His blood is up, and he needs to claim Steve in every way possible, leave his marks all over his insides like he’s done on the outside.

Steve’s hands are on his own chest, pressing on the bruises and cuts, pushing his pain just that little bit farther, and Bucky reaches down to help him, one hand pressing into the big, purple-black spot above his hip while the other traces at the cut on his cheek, pulling the skin as it tries to knit together.

“Touch me, Bucky, touch me,” Steve begs, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses entirely on the sensations of his body. Bucky doesn’t have to ask for more directions, knowing what Steve wants from him, and using the hand he’d lubed his own cock with, he gathers up the blood pooling on Steve’s chest from the little nicks and cuts, smearing it all over on his way to Steve’s cock.

The first touch of his hand, blood-hot and slick, makes Steve gasp before deep, guttural groans force their way out of his mouth. Bucky is mesmerized, as always, watching himself plunge in and out of Steve’s body while he jerks Steve off in time with his own thrusts, his blood mixing with the lube and making a beautiful mess.

“So close baby, oh fuck, one more time, please, one more time…”

Bucky, who is holding off his own orgasm by a thread, lets go where he’d been gripping Steve’s hip with his left hard enough that new bruises have already formed. Steve locks his legs around Bucky’s waist to give himself some leverage as Bucky stops thrusting, and opens his eyes, staring right at Bucky.

“You ready, sugar?” Bucky asks, needing to check in one last time. “I’ll make it good, I promise. You ready for it?”

Steve nods frantically, his hand coming down to take over where Bucky’s fist is still wrapped around his cock. Bucky can’t fuck into him and hit him at the same time, so Steve starts to writhe slowly, fucking himself back on Bucky’s cock as he jerks himself off.

“Alright baby, here we go.” Bucky grabs Steve by the hair one last time with his right hand, covered as it is by blood and lube and precome, and holds tight. Steve is panting and gasping, whining high in his throat and Bucky doesn’t give him any warning before he slaps him hard, one last time.

Steve screams and tightens around Bucky’s cock, back bowing as his orgasm overtakes him. Bucky plants his hand on the ground the second he can and fucks into Steve once, twice, before he stills, biting Steve’s shoulder had enough to fill his mouth with the salty metallic taste of blood as he fills him up, cock twitching and spurting as he marks Steve up on the inside. The bite triggers a smaller orgasm from Steve, who tightens even more, his ass rhythmically clenching and milking every last drop of come from Bucky.

After, when Bucky has Steve relaxing in the tub while he works on cleaning him up, they’re gentle again. Their dynamic isn’t for everyone, Bucky knows this. Knows that most people can’t dream of the love he feels pouring off of Steve as Bucky cleans the cuts on his face, or as he rubs the arnica cream on him when he’s laying on their bed before Bucky wraps Steve up in his arms and they drift off to sleep whispering loving words to each other.

At the end of the day, though, it doesn’t matter what people think they know, because _they_ know what it is, this thing between them. And that will always enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KatAtomic2/) and on [Tumblr.](https://kat-atomic.tumblr.com/)


End file.
